


Tangled

by still_lycoris



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Gen, Hair Brushing, Post-Canon, Self-Esteem Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-05
Updated: 2016-01-05
Packaged: 2018-05-11 23:11:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5645290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/still_lycoris/pseuds/still_lycoris
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hank is trying to get used to his transformation. Charles is trying to help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tangled

Hank knew he was going to have to stop hiding in his laboratory eventually.

He had tidied it all up, got it all back into order after his … transformation. He’d broken a lot, of course – both then and now, his new hands were clumsy and the claws kept catching on things. It didn’t help that he kept trying to do things without looking. He didn’t want to see his _paws_.

Charles had replaced everything, of course. Replaced everything, offered to help in any way that he could. Hank had thanked him politely but didn’t really know what he wanted. Except to erase this – all of this. 

He didn’t want to say that to Charles. He had a feeling Charles would want something similar, given everything that had happened. So far, Charles was coping very well, of course. He hadn’t batted an eyelid at all the changes in his house and life. Hank wished he could be more like that. 

He was trying to distract himself when the door suddenly opened and Charles was there, smiling at him. 

“Hank.”

“Charles. I … hello.”

He always felt awkward when he saw Charles these days. He hated imagining what Charles must think of him. What Charles must see when he looked at him; a blue, furry monster with fangs. He hated everybody thinking about it but Charles was the worst, somehow. Perhaps because he’d wanted to impress Charles so much and now … well.

“Are you busy?” Charles asked.

“No. No, not at all.”

“Good. I want to brush your hair.”

Hank stared at him, not quite certain if he’d heard right. Charles looked up at him, his expression quite calm.

“Your fur is getting all tangled, Hank. It’s quite visible to me and it must be uncomfortable for you. I think you’ve let it get bad enough that you’ll never manage it yourself so I am going to do it for you.”

“I … I’m fine. Really. Please … I don’t … ”

“Don’t want me to touch you?” Charles’s voice was quiet. Hank felt hot with shame and looked away before realising that he probably couldn’t actually blush any longer. A tiny blessing in a sea of curses.

“Please sit down, Hank.”

Charles’s voice was so level and reasonable that it was impossible to resist. Slowly, still making sure not to actually look Charles in the face, he moved around and sat on the floor. He heard Charles’s wheelchair come closer and then a very gentle hand touched his shoulder.

“I’ll try not to hurt you.”

At first, the comb was quite gentle but it quickly met a tangle that make Hank growl. He hadn’t quite realised just how much care and attention fur would need and then he’d just … well. He hadn’t been able to find the energy to care. After all, he was a monster. What did it matter how he appeared when he was blue and had teeth that came over his lower lip?

It hadn’t occurred to him how painful it would be when it eventually was dealt with.

“Sorry,” Charles murmured. “Let me … ah yes, that’s a bit better, isn’t it?”

The comb pulled and tugged and Hank clenched his teeth together tightly, determined not to make any more sounds. He hated that this was necessary. He hated – 

“You’re shouting,” Charles said and Hank cringed. He’d forgotten Charles was a telepath. Stupid as well as monstrous …

“You’re not a monster, Hank. I promise you, nobody thinks that.”

“Not here, maybe,” Hank said, unable to keep the bitterness from his voice. “But everywhere else? Anybody new?”

“People will need to get used to you, yes,” Charles said. He was still brushing steadily, twisting the snarls out as he spoke. “I know it’s going to be hard. I know that I can’t possibly understand what you’re going through, not … not in the same way but … I do understand what it is to have your body … be wrong.”

Startled, Hank twisted round to look at him. It was Charles’s turn to twist his face away slightly, his eyes distant.

“I know I shouldn’t. I know that there’s people worse off than me, that I could … but sometimes I wake up and I forget that I can’t walk and I try to get up and … I get so angry. At myself, at the world … ”

 _At Erik_ went unspoken but Hank was sure it was there. He had never seen Charles like this before. Never seen Charles even slightly weak. He wasn’t quite sure how it made him feel. Distressed to think of the Professor unhappy but also … honoured. Charles was sharing something with him, something that he usually kept hidden away. He ought to react somehow, say something that might help but he didn’t seem to have any words. Instead, he reached up a clumsy paw and touched Charles’s hand.

“I get angry too. Only I can’t because … when I get angry, I break things.”

“I noticed.” There was no cruelty in Charles’s voice, only a playful kindness. “Don’t worry, Hank. I can afford to replace any equipment you need to smash.”

“And if I smash people?”

There, his greatest fear offered up. That he would lose control more than he already had when someone said something small, that he would _hurt_ someone …

Charles’s comb caught roughly in a tangle in his fur and he yowled, trying to jerk away automatically. Charles let him move away, letting him calm down. 

“You didn’t hurt me then, did you? You still have control of yourself and that control will get stronger. You’ll learn to control your anger. Or at least, channel it. Think of all the good things you did for us on the beach. You’ll learn to cope with all of this, I promise. Just as I will. Perhaps we can help each other.”

Hank closed his eyes. He wanted to believe. And if Charles believed it … Charles _did_ understand. Charles knew.

Charles had gone back to grooming him. The tangles were mostly out now and the sensation was simply a pleasant one, gentle touch through his fur. Hank heard an odd noise and suddenly realised that it was coming from him.

He was purring.

Embarrassed, he tried to stop himself, feeling ridiculous but Charles touched his shoulder.

“Don’t. It’s nice.” 

Nice? Something about this creature-shell he was caught in was _nice?_

Well. Maybe it was. A little.

Maybe Charles was right and it wouldn’t be so terrible.

He leaned back, closed his eyes and let himself continue to purr.

**Author's Note:**

> Written for 12dayschristmas


End file.
